


94 Minutes to Meltdown

by RuGrimm



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: 9/11, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Terrorism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuGrimm/pseuds/RuGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The disaster of the World Trade Centers is a story known world-wide. With the amount of lives lost, the mass reaping cannot be left alone to the Shinigami of the New York Division, and thus the recruitment of reapers internationally has been enlisted for this particular collection.<br/>Tasked with the reaping of nearly three thousand souls, Grell and William (and their current trainees) must work together to collect the souls on all 94 stories of their assigned tower...in the burning infernos of hell against the clock as steel and pieces of their building fall down on their heads and demons threaten not only their targeted souls, but their very lives...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 8:46

Green eyes watched unsuspecting targets that wandered along the bland, grey streets like busy bees unaware of the wasp about to stir the nest. They were blissfully oblivious to the danger right over their heads. 

For a predator, it was the perfect meal.

                Grell Sutcliff stood atop a building only a few blocks from his destination. Two buildings seemed to stand higher than any other, gleaming in the early morning sunrise. It was the calm before the storm.

                He snickered at the unsuspecting victims that surrounded him like a herd of swine being lead to slaughter. Their bland, monotonous lives compared to his own were practically worthless. There was no one special to be investigated this time; there was nothing to worry about except for the steel prison they’d be trapped inside...alone with swarms of demons. To think, he went across the sea to this disgusting city filled with the rats of humans just to reap their pitiful, greedy souls. Then again, he wasn’t alone.

                Two reapers stood behind them, newer trainees of the branch sent to assist him and his partner for this particular assignment.

                Two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-six souls to reap and less than twelve hours to reap them all. 

                They were dreadfully understaffed back in London, but it seemed as if two reapers from every Dispatch in the world would be joining them for this reap, and it was obvious that this mass of Grim Reapers would be needed far more than any reinforcements in England at the time. The trainees: Baxter Hodgings and Francis Dana were only a few months out of their final exams, and he highly doubted they were equipped for carnage of this size.

                He felt himself getting excited, his fingertips itching at the thought of the screams and the blood that would be spilt today. All of those souls and all of that suffering in one place…it was his ecstasy. A small chuckle and hum of amusement fell from his pursed lips.

                “Sutcliff-senpai? Are you all right?” Baxter stepped forward, his dirty blond hair hanging over one eye and his sledgehammer tightly held in his left hand.

                “Oh, just fine, darling~ Why wouldn’t I be~?” he cooed, looking back at the two as he placed a hand on his hips and twirled a strand of his crimson tresses with a sly expression. His gaze fell upon Baxter and the axe-wielding reaper named Francis, meeting their equally worried expressions. “Surely, you aren’t getting cold feet, are you~?”

                “N-no,” he stuttered, gaze falling before he swallowed and soon gained the courage to speak again after several awkward moments of hesitant silence. “Do you enjoy this job, Sutcliff-senpai?”

                “Oh, honey~” he giggled, pressing his glove-clad fingertips to his lips before blowing the cute little blonde a kiss. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

                “You aren’t guilty for ending the lives of these souls?” Francis stepped forward, slinging her axe over her shoulder to rest the butt of the blade against her shoulder. "Would they still die if we didn't reap their souls?"

                Grell rolled his eyes—typical greenies. “Their lives are irrelevant. The sooner you realize they have no meaning, the easier your job will be. Maybe someday you’ll become as deadly~ efficient as me~!” With a swirl as he trailed off from his sentence with a high coo, he ended in his classic pose, eyes half lidded and chains swinging from the spin that came to a sudden stop in front of the two new recruits.

                Both fell silent as they looked at the twin towers only a few blocks away. “Isn’t it terrible that so many people have to die?”

                The redhead’s grin faded as he huffed and crossed his arms. They weren’t getting the message! “Darlings~ just get those stupid little thoughts out of your heads. They’re disturbing my deadly aura!”

                “B-but-!”

                _“Honestly,_ but nothing. Mr. Sutcliff has a point, Mr. Hodgings…Miss Dana. Despite his impetuosity and lack of regard for personal space, it will do you both good to use him as an example of a Dispatch Officers’ attitude. It is that attitude you should strive to achieve, should you wish to live very long at all.”

                Grell’s cheeks heated up at the sight of the cold, deadly-efficient man coming his way. Oh, how he loved the sight of that form trapped in the confines of a tight suit that didn’t leave much to the imagination. His lashes fell halfway, batting slightly against the lens of his glasses as he swooned. “Oh~! Will~! Nice of you to join the party, darling~!”

                A twitch of the eyebrow was his only response as William T. Spears turned, facing the new recruits and keeping a distance from the madman nearby. “Keep this thought in mind as you work loyally today and represent the name of the London Dispatch: ‘You will not survive long if you let your emotions play a role in your job’.”

                With a smirk, Grell managed to cozy up to his handsome supervisor, leaning into his side and coyly sliding a hand down his chest to fiddle with the buttons of his blazer. “Mmm~ He’s right, you know~. You’ll get yourself killed in the process the longer you think like that~! Then again, if you do, you are better off dead anyhow. We have no time for…dramatics.” His lips broke into a chilling, Cheshire grin, eyes narrowing halfway in an expression that caused the novices’ blood to run cold. A sadistic expression of a cold-hearted murderer was plain as day, and each of them fidgeted nervously in their own unique ways.

                “You’re one to talk, Sutcliff,” William muttered, moving his shoulder and causing the red nuisance to fall off and stumble behind him in an attempt not to fall. “If I recall correctly, it was you who proclaims to be an actor. Such dramatics seem to be a part of your daily life.”

                “Oh, don’t be so chilly, Willy~” he giggled, regaining his balance and flicking his hand downward as if to wave off the jab. “At least I can hold my own when it starts to get a little…rough~”

                The ravenette adjusted his glasses, sighing as his sight was set on the two towers nearby that would be the cause of not only the loss of many lives, but a change economically and politically for the country in which they'd been transferred to for the daylight hours. They were scheduled to reap until eight that evening sharp, and any other deaths afterward would be given to the American Dispatch to deal with. 

                William exhaled deeply, stretching out his hand to summon the long, metal pole that appeared almost instantly in his hand. He closed his palm around the familiar extension of himself, ignoring the giggle that filled his left ear. A weight pressed against his side, and a hand slyly played with a strand of his black, slicked back hair.

                “How romantic~! It’s been forever since we went on such an assignment together~!” Grell crooned, batting his eyelashes at the other. “Ahn~! The suffering screams of dying souls shall be the melodramatic tune to our tragedy~! Won’t it be spectacular~?”

                “Spectacular?” muttered the supervisor, ignoring the flirtacious attitude of his coworker as he stood patiently, waiting for the main event to begin. He looked at his watch.

                Only four more minutes…

                “Looking at your watch, huh? You must be anxious for our little play date together~!”

                “I am simply making sure that all is as written in our itinerary. It is only polite to reap the souls in a timely fashion, naturally,” he replied coolly, fidgeting with his tie for a moment.

                Grell rolled his eyes, instead turning his attention to the massing of suits on rooftops nearby, all prepared to leap forward at the right moment. He vaguely wondered just how many Shinigami had shown up for such a massive, dangerous reaping. Surely there had to be more than fifty or so of them all together.

                He grinned from ear to ear, humming to himself with growing mirth, and his body crawled with tingling nerves. There hadn’t been so many handsome men in one place since he was tasked with the reaping of World War II…

        Just the thoughts of such a marvelously bloody event made his body grow hot, cheeks rivaling the color of his hair as it was hard to sit still and not press a little more against his favorite dark figure in the whole world. Oh, he’d give anything to go back and time and frolic in the pools of crimson and dead, decaying bodies. It was the screams of those massacred that was like a music box melody to his ears. 

        He ran a tongue over his painted lips, watching William’s watch twitch forward with every second passed, itching to race forward and finally bathe in this reverie. And when it struck at 8:46, and the sound of a plane engine finally caught his attention, a shrill of laughter burst from his lungs, eyes wide in his skull. 

        All at once, black forms raced toward their target of the two towering figures in New York City, pouring into the streets and jumping from building to building like crickets in a forest of grass. 

        Grell’s bubbly laughter sent chills down the spines of those who heard it (minus his dark prince of death), and he summoned his favorite playtoy, reveling in the roar of the engine and spinning teeth of the massive blade. In a blur of red, he matched William’s lunge and pace step-by-step, making sure not to fall behind. As he ran, he looked to his right, meeting his superior’s gaze for a brief moment, and the tie of friendship and dependence on one another was evident, regardless of the expressions visible to anyone else, save for each other. 

        They both accepted that it would take the both of them to stay alive in the trap they were recklessly jumping into...a metal trap that would be filled with more than just dying, human souls. Despite William’s cool, level-headed demeanor, and Grell’s overbearing recklessness, they both understood that working alone would be a signed death warrant. 

        They cast aside any past differences in that exchanged glance, and then focused on the chance at hand, both leaping from the nearest building toward the Twin Towers just as the first plane hit. 


	2. Let the Record Show

“BAXTER! PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!” Grell hissed over the clamor of his chainsaw as the rotating blades spun through the air to cut through a chunk of steel falling toward the young trainee. 

He squeaked, bracing himself for the heavy material with his arms over his head in preparation for the impact that never came. When either side of the beam fell around him, the blonde winced as he lifted his head and let out a relaxed sigh at the realization he had just barely escaped being crushed. “That could have been a disaster,” he mumbled aloud, allowing a small, joking smile as he looked at his mentor. 

The same, slightly amused look was matched with the exact opposite. 

An infuriated grimace was across the redhead’s face as he marched forward, grabbing Baxter’s tie with his chainsaw in his left hand. “What the hell were you thinking, swinging so recklessly with that  _ toy _ of yours?! You could have collapsed the wall and crushed us all!”

Despite the fact that being trapped under the tons of weight, they wouldn’t die. However, they would be stuck and left to be fed to the demons scouring about the floors in search of dying, greedy souls looking for a way out. And they were already dropping like flies. 

Even the best had been lost, including...

A look of pure fright painted the pale canvas of Baxter’s face, wide, green eyes stretching in large circles around his glasses. Intimidating, pearly white teeth were too close to his face for comfort, and a still deadly lion grumbled and purred in the redhead’s left hand. “I-I-I…”

“Don’t you dare apologize! Get to work!” he snapped, pushing the trainee to the floor and stepping over him with a cruel gaze. 

The trainee landed on his side, looking up at his mentor in disbelief and terror. What could have caused the redhead to be so volatile...during one of his favorite pastimes: the mass murder of several humans at once? Surely...they hadn’t lost  _ him _ ?

To be honest, Grell himself couldn’t remember the last time he was this serious on a reaping, but then again...it had been a long time since he had been in such a predicament. The floor below had collapsed on an angle, cutting off any communication or access to the lower floors. Stuck on floor 104, the office in flames, the reapers on and above this level struggled to reap the souls as quickly as possible. Demons seemed to be coming out of nowhere and massing on these floors, taking advantage of the reapers trapped inside the fiery prison. 

Fire wouldn’t hurt any of the supernatural Shinigami, but there was no way out without jumping out of the building or risking cutting their way out to the lower levels. Such a risk would likely cause the upper floors to start collapsing and crush the remaining Shinigami above, and that couldn’t be risked until all souls above scheduled for collection were harvested. Even then, collapsing the top would only result in the loss of more souls. 

William would have known what to do...

Grell grit his teeth at the thought, shaking his head as he leapt through the hole in the floor to the next level for a younger secretary scheduled for collection. Upon landing, his heels clicked along tile floor as he stepped over already collected bodies and debris, green eyes scanning the floor for his intended target. As he approached a nearby desk, he caught sight of a pair of purple heels, and he instantly knew he had found his soul. 

Seldom had he been known to face a soul without any enthusiasm. Even in a regular collection in which he would be bored to death, he was at least known to complain a little. Now, he lacked emotion. He faced his target with a sense of extreme apathy, much like  _ him _ . 

A smog of choking smoke suddenly swam over him as he came only feet away from his soul, causing the redhead to wince and cover his face instinctively with an arm as to protect himself. Eyes watering at the sting it caused, Grell closed his eyes and concentrated as he remembered to quit breathing, stopping the tingling, struggled feeling of his lungs as they seemed to beg for the air they had not required for centuries. 

As polychromatic eyes cautiously opened again, they widened and a gasp fell from his lips as the world was thrown backwards and the ceiling seemed to fly away from him faster than he could react. The floor greeted his back with a sick pop! and his left shoulder burst with a burning, unbearable agony.  Strong claws dug into his ribs and his other shoulder, and two, white, gleaming fangs filled his vision. 

Surprise turned into frustration as the redhead bared his teeth, pupils dilating in fury as he hissed and spat, raising his right hand in an attempt to land a blow, any blow at all, to the demon’s face. He could hardly see his target, vision filled with black shadow as the demon tried desperately to pin him, his claws curving into his bones and blood oozing from the puncture wounds.

His body thrashed wildly, trying to throw his attacker off as threw his head forward, meeting cranium with cranium. A crack! filled both their ears, and Grell was certain it was his moment to escape; after all, it had always worked as a last result before. 

However, the demon didn’t budge, instead lunging forward again to dig long, deadly fangs into the reaper’s throat, causing an unmanly scream to fill the air. Red filled Grell’s vision, a blinding pain rocketing through his body and making his limbs feel as if they were turning into useless bags of meat. His body stiffened against his wishes, shaking and twitching and convulsing. The redhead snapped his skull back against tiled floor, unaware of the blood spreading beneath a body that thrashed and caused the demon’s claws to burrow further. 

He could die like this! Not so easily! He didn’t he have a chance! The great Grell Sutcliff could not be so easily bested like this! Yet, despite the bright fire burning in his ‘soul’, his body lacked the strength to best the weight on top of him, and that flame began to falter and flicker. 

Black pushed at the edges of his vision, and the sounds of screams, fire, motors, and snarls began to fade into a quiet ringing. The thing he feared more than anything--a second death--was starting to become more real than he had ever imagined. 

“W-William! WILLIAM!” he screamed...but he knew he wouldn’t come…

Xxx

“Sutcliff! Duck!” A red blade darted through the air, whizzing above Grell’s head into a demon leaping toward him. 

The redhead managed to bend backward at the last second, narrowly avoiding a hair trim over the top of his head. “HEY! WATCH IT!” he hissed, cheeks heating. 

He couldn’t stay angry for long. They were being swarmed by demons as they stood amongst the wreckage of a plane, the heat from the fire intense; although, they couldn’t feel it. Red and orange and yellow and blue--the colors danced about, filling the mangosteen of reapers’ peripheral vision and making it hard to remain aware of the dark shadows flitting about all around them. 

The demon on the end of William’s scythe screeched, spurting crimson and writhing on the blade impaled through its chest. Limbs thrashed about as wildly as the fires around them, and shadows fell upon them as it tried to morph in its more demonic form. With a sneer and the knowledge that both of them could quite easily be killed should the demon change form, Grell darted forward, his deadly efficient scythe roaring above the demon’s agonized squeals and the blazing flames as it tore through flesh, ripping apart its target until half of the noise died out altogether. 

A body fell limply on the floor, and William retracted his scythe only to flick it to the side, blood splattering on the already stained floor. Irritated at the situation and the mess on his once pristine, always cleanly scythe, the ravenette’s eyebrow twitched, and he looked toward the dead demon starting to decompose to ash on the ground already covered in soot and bodies. “ _ Honestly _ . The rats are running rampant everywhere.” He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping off the rest of the demon’s entrails from his trusted blade.

“That’s what rats do best,” Grell teased, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, although neither of them were in the mood for jokes. 

Shaking his head, the taller turned and walked toward a set of stairs collapsed and covered in the dead and dying. “Come, Sutcliff. There is still work to do.”

With a Cheshire grin, Grell giggled and walked briskly after his superior, all the while aware of the dangers that lurked all around them. “So  _ deadly _ focused as always, my darling~”   
“I am  _ not _ your darling.”

“Whatever you say,  _ darling _ .”

Xxx

The weight above Grell suddenly vanished, the demon howling as it was knocked across the room. A hand reached out to grip the floor and try and slow itself. Claws scraped against tile, and eventually the demon came to a stop, hissing and spitting at the two trainees standing over a certain redhead’s body. Eyes narrowing and well aware that it was outmatched, it licked its top lip and turned to leave, but Francis was too fast for it, an axe finding its spine and causing the demon to stagger forward with an eerie howl. She darted forward, Baxter on her heels before she grabbed the long handle of her axe, pulling out with a sickening squirt of blood just as the brunt of her partner’s sledgehammer met the demon’s head again. 

The dark hellspawn screeched, flying toward the glass windows so hard it broke through, falling out of the broken tower and out of sight. With a snicker, Francis looked over the edge, seeing no sight of the demon amongst the chaos outside. 

Gasping and eyes wide, Grell rolled over, coughing up blood in relief and terror. He had had a flashback...perhaps he had seen part of his own Cinematic Record. If that was the case...had he almost died? Was the reason behind his existence now a couple of greenies? The thought wounded his pride more than the physical injuries on his body. 

“Sutcliff-senpai? Are you all right?” Francis kneeled to his side, gently touching his back as her partner, Baxter, stood nearby with a newly blood-covered sledgehammer tightly within his grasp. 

“J-just fine,” he rasped, struggling to his feet only to stagger. Gloved hands reached out to help support him, but he merely bat them away with a hiss. “Don’t touch me.” 

Flinching, the female trainee backed away and grabbed the redhead’s scythe from the floor, offering it to him with ease. 

An annoyed tsk and a glare was thrown her direction before it was snatched from her hand, and Grell winced at the pain he caused himself. He realized with mute horror that he may have dislocated his shoulder in the fight, and the dizzying pain at any movement he made caused him to grow angrier. To think, the magnificent Shinigami of the London Dispatch, so easily caught off-guard and defeated...to be rescued by a bunch of under-trained midgets that had outlived even…

Grell shook his head, gripping his scythe tighter despite the pain and taking an agonizing step forward. With a dreadful limp, he continued toward his assigned target that had managed to live way past their scheduled time; nevertheless, he would make sure they were finished with soon enough. 

He had a job to do. 

And the love of his life to avenge--even at the cost of his own.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, my darlings. I have been a bit busy, but this is the beginning of my mass posting. However, I guess being only two days late is a new record for me XP  
> Anyway, I would like to announce that now you can follow me on Twitter and friend me on facebook. I'm on Twitter as RuGrimm, and on Facebook as R.U. Grimm. It would be awesome if you guys could add me there as I love staying in touch with my fans, and I should be keeping you guys up to date with all of my work as they progress. This is my first time ever using social media sites, so I'm pretty excited! Heh, but yeah. Add me there, and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


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